


Sorrow's mysteries

by bananacosmicgirl



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananacosmicgirl/pseuds/bananacosmicgirl
Summary: Tony comes by Tim's apartment after a particularly bad case.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	Sorrow's mysteries

**Author's Note:**

> Posting my old fic to AO3, this was written back in 2010.

Dead children. 

Tim can’t imagine anything worse than seeing children’s bodies, eyes staring sightlessly ahead. 

A little girl’s dress, drenched in blood. 

Ducky’s report was enough to make Tim run to the bathroom. He can’t remember the last time he puked during a case, but this—

At least they caught the bastard. 

It didn’t come without expenses – Tony at gunpoint and there’d been shots and Tim still can’t tell what had happened because it had all been loud noise and fear ringing in his ears. 

Now every time he closes his eyes, he sees Tony, jaw set, eyes black with fury, a gun to his head. Tim’s heart races like it did back in the apartment where pictures of little children lined the walls.

Tim gets home, and he stares at his apartment as though he’s never seen it before. He doesn’t see any of it; the case keeps replaying in front of his eyes. The girl. Her younger brother. 

Five minutes pass before he removes his shoes. 

He’s sitting on his bed, still wearing his coat when the doorbell rings, and he startles at the sound, walking to the door before he has time to consider ignoring it. 

The smell of pizza hits him before he gets the door open. It makes his stomach churn. 

Tony isn’t wearing his usual smile. Instead, his eyes are hollow and shadows across his face make him look old, so old. Pizza in one hand and in the other, a bottle of vodka hangs. Tim raises an eyebrow. 

“’s not a night for beer,” Tony says. 

“Not sure I’m up for pizza.” 

Tony shrugs. “We can just do vodka.” 

Tim lets Tony inside. He’s not sure what Tony is doing there, at the same time as he knows exactly what he’s doing there. Neither one wants to be alone tonight, and they can’t go to Gibbs. Tony could go to Ziva, though. Tim isn’t sure why he didn’t. 

Tony drops the pizza in Tim’s tiny kitchen and grabs two glasses. They’re regular glasses, the kind Tim uses for milk and juice and never ever vodka, but Tony pours vodka in them anyway and takes a gulp, shuddering and making a face as the liquid burns its way down his throat. 

He holds out a glass to Tim. Tim takes it, but doesn’t drink. 

“You sure this is the best idea?” Tim asks. 

“Got a better suggestion?” Tony’s voice is rough. When he looks at Tim, Tim just wants the light to return to his eyes. “Thought not.” 

Tim has no other ideas. Drowning himself in some virtual world isn’t enough after today, drowning himself in liquor is more inviting. Maybe with vodka, he can scrub off the images of blood in blond hair and stains on a little green dress with a bow in the back. 

Tony is already re-filling his own glass and Tim worries briefly about alcohol poisoning, but Tony is a grown up so he should know his own limits. 

Should. 

Not that he’ll remember them when his eyes are dead. 

Tim reaches out and puts a hand on Tony’s arm, stopping him as he’s raising his glass to take another swig of liquor. 

“Tony, maybe—” 

He doesn’t get any further because he is silenced by Tony’s mouth covering his. Lips tasting of vodka, tongue pushing past Tim’s lips with little to no invitation. Not that Tim is resisting – he’s in shock, because no, he didn’t expect this no matter what horrors the day has brought – he stands there, hands to his sides as Tony presses against him. 

Then it’s impossible for him to not respond because the urgency in Tony’s actions scream to Tim, screams to do whatever Tony wants right now. 

Anything to return the light to Tony’s eyes. 

Anything to forget. 

And Tony’s tongue is like fire, heating Tim from the inside until he’s kissing back with equal fervency. 

He doesn’t think much at all after that. 

The glasses and the bottle stand forgotten on the kitchen counter. 

The morning sun stings his eyes when he wakes up. They never closed the blinds the night before and now— 

They. 

Tim stops short, because there is so much in that tiny word. 

He had sex with Tony last night. Tony, his friend and colleague and—lover? 

He lies still, eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep. What is he supposed to say? When he turns around and sees Tony there, what are they supposed to do? There’s a slight panic causing his heart to beat quicker. 

Then he realizes that he can’t hear the sound of another person breathing. And that means—

When he turns around, he finds that he’s alone. The other side of the bed, where he’s pretty sure Tony fell asleep last night, is empty, rumpled sheets lying at the end of the bed, pillow on the floor. Tim’s cheeks flush when he remembers what they were doing when the pillow fell. 

Tim gets out of bed. Thoughts of Tony fills his mind: naked Tony, sweaty Tony, Tony’s hands everywhere and—

It’s confusing. He’s never had sex without being in a meaningful relationship with them – and now this? With Tony? 

He had sex with Tony. 

And it was good. 

Like, fantastic. 

Although it’s weird and although he doesn’t have a clue of where that leaves them, he’s a little glad that it happened, because it’s making him think about other things than a little boy’s broken body. 

He doesn’t know if he feels anything about Tony. Beyond the friendship and colleague thing, that is. Sure, sometimes he’s pondered what Tony would be like in bed – Tony has force fed them so many stories about his conquests, it’s impossible not to wonder. And Tim’s pretty sure Ziva has had her go with Tony, so he’s spent a few lonely nights thinking about that too, even though it’s a little weird. 

But Tony as more than a friend? 

Kissing him was nothing short of fantastic. Does that mean Tim’s in love with Tony? 

Does a good sex have to mean anything, but that it was good sex? 

Thinking isn’t getting him anywhere, but he’s not sure what else he can do because Tony left and Tim is smart enough to realize that that means Tony doesn’t want to talk. Possibly ever. He won’t get the ever part, because they have to go to work on Monday morning, but Tim can give Tony time until then. 

Tim makes breakfast – the pizza is still on the counter so he grabs a slice, eating pizza for breakfast is something he learned from Tony while on stakeouts – and cleans up the glasses they used for vodka. 

He spends the day by his computer, pretending to be an elf lord and trying his very best not to think about Tony. 

  
Tim is starting to suspect that Tony will in fact stay away until Monday morning when they have to see each other in the bullpen. It’s Sunday afternoon and Tim hasn’t heard so much as a peep from Tony. It’s unusual, because Tony forwards stupid emails to him and sends him silly messages on the phone at least a half a dozen times on any given day. Tim misses Tony, which surprises him. He’s snapped at Tony to stop bothering him on more than one occasion. 

The doorbell rings and Tim pauses the game. His heart beats a little faster as he walks to the door. 

Tony stands on the other side, hair standing on end and gaze studiously on the ground. 

“Hey,” Tim says. 

Tony doesn’t say a word. He appears to find the floor of utmost interest. 

“Wanna come in?” Tim asks. 

Tony shuffles, looking young and very old all at once. He’s wearing sweatpants and a sweater, but his drawn face is still marred by the shadows that were there on Friday, deeper and darker now. Tim isn’t sure Tony has slept at all. 

Tim doesn’t know what to do, so he stands there and waits until Tony moves inside. Tony removes his shoes mechanically and then stands in the not-really-a-hallway of Tim’s apartment. Tim wishes he owned a couch. As it is, there is the chair by the computer and there’s the bed. His apartment isn’t made to entertain guests. 

“Do you want something to drink?” 

Tony looks at him and makes a sound. “Been drinking enough.” 

That doesn’t come as a surprise; Tim can smell the lingering scent of alcohol surrounding Tony. 

Tim sighs. “Not to sound rude or anything, but—why are you here?” 

Tony looks up at him, finally. Tim can only describe Tony’s eyes with one word: haunted. Tony looks like he’s being chased by an invisible force, drawing the life out of him. 

“I shouldn’t have come.” 

“Yeah, you should have,” Tim interrupts, gentle but firm, and comes to stand between Tony and the door, stopping him from leaving. Not that he could stop Tony if he actually tries, but Tony doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight Tim. 

The slumped shoulders, the downcast gaze – the urge to gather Tony up in his arms overcomes Tim. He can still remember what Tony feels like, naked skin against naked skin, warm and alive. 

But he stays where he is because he’s pretty sure that Tony will bolt if Tim so much as touches him. 

“So I guess you want to talk about Friday?” Tony sounds tired. 

Tim shrugs. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

Tony gives a soft snort. “When are we supposed to do it, then? In the bullpen tomorrow with Ziva eavesdropping and Gibbs repeating rule number twelve?” 

“You don’t look like you’re up for a talk right now.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, but it is but a shadow of his usual self. “I’m fine.” 

“Is that why you’ve been drinking your way to oblivion?” Tim hopes he doesn’t sound like he’s judging; he’s not. He’s been doing the same reality avoidance as Tony, except his has involved online gaming instead of the bottom of a bottle. 

Tony hears judging anyway. “I shouldn’t have come.” 

This time, he brushes past Tim, bumping hard into Tim’s shoulder when he passes. 

Tim will not stand for that crap, no matter how lousy Tony’s feeling. The Probie who would’ve accepted Tony acting this way is long since gone. 

He grabs Tony’s arm and pushes him back, away from the front door. “I changed my mind. We’re talking about Friday.” 

Tony looks suddenly angry. “What about it? You were here, you were convenient. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” 

The words are like a punch and Tim flinches. 

Convenient. 

He won’t let Tony get away so easily, though. 

“Then why are you here?” 

Tony’s response is a second too late for it to be honest. “I thought I’d tell you now, so you don’t make a scene tomorrow at work.” 

Tim has been working with Tony for over five years. He knows the nuances of Tony’s voice, knows his different moods, and he knows the way Tony likes his coffee and what toppings he wants on a pizza. After the undercover fiasco, he’s also taken the time to learn when Tony is lying. 

The problem is, though Tim knows that Tony is lying, he doesn’t know what the truth is. 

He takes a chance for once in his life. He takes two steps forward, way too close. Tim’s heart is beating so hard Tony should be able to hear it. 

“Want to try that again?” Tim’s voice is low. 

Tony’s response is unconscious; his tongue darts out to lick his lips. There is still darkness, so much darkness, in his eyes. The shadows beneath his eyes look almost blue. 

“I—” 

Tony stops, staring at Tim. 

“Thought so,” Tim says. 

Tony growls. “Don’t play with me.” 

A hint of a smile crosses Tim’s lips. “I’m not.” 

And Tim realizes as he utters the words that it’s true. He’s not playing Tony, he’s not trying to get the best of him. 

He enjoys being this close to Tony. 

“I swear, if you—” 

Tim sighs. “Tony.” 

Tony falls silent again. 

This time, Tim initiates the kiss instead. 

It’s nothing like it was on Friday. 

This kiss is slow and gentle, exploring without demons racing them on. Tony’s lips are warm and soft against Tim’s. Tim cups Tony’s face in his hands, running his thumbs along Tony’s cheekbones. The skin beneath his fingertips is rough. 

Tim wonders why he never realized that Tony was in love with him. He’s not sure how or why he realizes it now, but he does. All the little things – the teasing and the funny emails and the touching and the pictures – all of it comes together, forming a full picture within Tim’s mind. 

He hasn’t sorted out his own feelings yet, but when it feels this good to kiss someone, when someone melts this comfortably against him, when he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Tony for the last thirty-six hours, then it’s more than just friendship. More than just two colleagues taking comfort in each other. 

Tony doesn’t draw back when he speaks again; his words travel across Tim’s neck where Tim can’t see Tony’s face. 

“I’m sorry about, you know.” 

“Leaving?” 

“Yeah.” A breath, barely a word. 

Tim smiles. “It’s okay. I was having a bit of a panic attack when I woke up, so it was probably easier that way.” 

Tim is pretty sure he can feel Tony’s smile. 

They’re quiet again. Tony is leaning on Tim a little more with each passing moment, like he’s ready to fall asleep against Tim, standing in the living room. 

“I’m not up for anything tonight.” Tony sounds a little shy and Tim has to smile, because he can’t remember ever hearing Tony being shy before. He likes it. 

“That’s okay. How about we just get some sleep?” 

It’s not like Tim got much good sleep last night, anyway. Nightmares about little green dresses and blood chased him, waking him drenched in sweat over and over. 

Tony doesn’t respond, and Tim takes that as a yes. He leads them into the bedroom and manages to get Tony underneath the covers, even though Tony is pretty much dead weight by now and even though it’s only four thirty in the afternoon. It’s not like they don’t have some catching up to do. 

Tim takes off his pants and shirt. He lets Tony keep his sweatpants but wrangles off the shirt, and then he climbs in behind Tony. They fit beautifully against each other, and Tony gives a soft sound of contentment when Tim wraps his arm around Tony’s waist. 

They still have to talk. There are still questions, the why and how and what the hell are we doing. 

But it can wait until morning. They’re asleep within minutes.

When the nightmares start, they hang onto each other tighter until together, they chase the demons away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to this prompt: NCIS, Tony/Tim, after a particularly bad case Tony and Tim sleep together. When Tim wakes the next morning Tony is gone, what happens next?


End file.
